What's the matter son, chicken? (you'll get it)

My god twice in two days? What has become of us? Like a tired lover after a long night of drinking I hop back in bed with you, the reader, to exchange creative juices one last time before I roll over and go to sleep. Don't worry, we'll snuggle for a bit after.

You were supposed to be repulsed by that. If you were not repulsed by that something is wrong with you.

Yank, something is wrong with you.

This binge blogging has got to stop.

Moments in my life that make me laugh on a pretty much daily basis:

This is going to be somewhat of a selfish entry, as these moments make me laugh mostly because of their context, not because any external validity they have as jokes. Hell, even that statement was selfish. External validity is an extremely appropriate phrase to describe this situation, the only thing is if you're not a psych student it probably didn't make sense. How pretentious of me. People are always described as well spoken when (in the words of zoolander) they use "Big words, and small - difficult words." The thing is, I think that just makes you an asshole. Being well spoken includes knowing your audience and switching accordingly. Those fuckers in your classes that use words because they hope 80% of the people won't know them aren't well spoken, they're just, well, spoken. Anyway so that's my purposefully pretentious rant. Moving on to moments that make me laugh.

In no particular order. Well actually, I'll start with a moment inspired by Yank, since he made me write this entry.

So we decided to go to Maine, the home of Rob (Yank) for reading week. There's good skiing there, his parents are really nice, his house is cozy and they cook good food up in that humpty bumpty, I was sold. We rented a pontiac Sunfire, or sun chicken as Kilmer taught us to call them. We laughed the whole way, even that is worth its own blog entry. Somewhere between Belleville and Kingston we passed some lady in what may have been another sunfire. I looked over as we overtook her. She looked old beyond her years. Wrinkles from smoking surrounded her lipsticked lips. She had blue tinted glasses on, possibly a cigarette standing attentively, smoking away from between her two fingers which grasped the wheel. I also remember the effect topped off by a feathery neck piece (I won't say scarf) thrown around her skinny neck, and her hair back in a tight bun.

"You see that lady?"

"Yeah, looks like a used up whore."

I almost got us into an accident. Yank had me in absolute tears. It's that calloused, unadulterated and guilt free judgement that we can throw down on people from the safety of our cars that makes life worth living some times. She could have won that car in a divorce, or she could have been on the way to watching her son play indoor soccer. We don't know, but for that moment our harsh judgement stood, and Yank's delivery was such that if you're not laughing as hard as I was right now, it's because I can't do the moment justice. Nice lady? Maybe.

Used up whore.

When I was a young camper at Kandalore, not more than 15 years (probably 16) I was on a trip on the Magnetawan river. Yes the selfsame river that would give a boat up to me when I was 25. We were mischevious boys, as all 16 year olds are (except the losers, and they're mischevious too, just online instead of in real life) Hey, don't judge, I'm blogging from the perspective of a 16 year old right now. We decided it would be a good idea to raid the other tent. What does that mean? Absolutely nothing. Let's look up the word 'raid' just to be traditional. . . .

–noun
1.
a sudden assault or attack, as upon something to be seized or suppressed: a police raid on a gambling ring.
2.
Military. a sudden attack on the enemy, as by air or by a small land force.
3.
a vigorous, large-scale effort to lure away a competitor's employees, members, etc.
4.
Finance. a concerted attempt of speculators to force stock prices down. –verb (used with object)
5.
to make a raid on.
6.
to steal from; loot: a worry that the investment fund is being raided.
7.
to entice away from another: Large companies are raiding key personnel from smaller companies.
8.
to indulge oneself by taking from, esp. in order to eat: raiding the cookie jar. –verb (used without object)
9.
to engage in a raid.
[Origin: 1375–1425; ME (north and Scots) ra(i)de, OE rād expedition, lit., a riding; doublet of road]

See none of these things apply. They weren't gambling, unless you count playing asshole for pieces of tuck which you haven't gotten yet (tuck is candy at camp)

They weren't the enemy, not in any traditional sense of the word, they were just some other boys, most of us were friends with at least one of them too. Anyway, this should have made it harder to explain to my best friend on the trip, Felix Boulanger, a guy from Quebec who made me laugh so hard it hurt on a regular basis, but somehow he got it. He'd never heard the word, the hardest part was to spell it out for him so he knew what the word was, the idea that we might take their food or resources (none of which they had any of, either did we, the kids have nothing on trip) didn't strike him as wierd.

So I've built up to this way too much. We formulated our plan, which we executed perfectly since the plan was that we would zip open their tent, run in, maybe give some noogies or steamrollers, take anything we wanted (which I stress again was nothing) and then make take their tent down. We ran out screaming, we zipped the tent open and busted in. One of the boys asked "What the fuck are you guys doing?" and we all froze, because no one was really sure, except Felix, he knew. In his thick french accent with that shit eating grin on his face he quoted us "We're having a raaaaid."

I laughed so hard I almost cried. The raid was over, we went back to the tent and talked about that moment for the rest of the night. We were 16, that shit is funny when you're 16.

Like the first time my dad said the expression "that's when the shit hit the fan" I laughed for 10 straight minutes. I was about 12 and we were on a road trip to north carolina. I just kept picturing it over and over and I absolutely could not contain myself. C'mon, that is a funny expression.

Actually, on that same trip, my god this was gold, Felix stepped out of the boat onto shore to get onto a portage. Drew, our very fun and much admired LIT pulled up in his boat which was being sterned by a camper. I don't know if this is because Drew was a weak paddler or just giving a kid a chance to try, probably the former. For reference Drew was a big guy, about 6'3". Felix stepped on a rock and then onto shore and pulled his boat up. Drew pulled in and asked "Hey Felix, how deep is it over there?" Felix replied "Not deep." (French accent). Drew pulled up, I don't know if he didn't look down or what, but I will never forget this as long as I live. He took a step like he was the coyote walking off a cliff. It was as if he realised there was nothing under him, and only then did the full 6 feet 3 inches of Drew disappear completely between the water's surface, with a splash so dainty it could only have come from a guy doing a pencil dive, or a completely complacent, unsuspecting victim. The laughter from the whole crew must have been absolutely deafening once he surfaced.

What else makes me laugh?

The phrase "You village idiot."

Play with it, say it in different ways, it just gets funnier.

The first time I fired a spud gun. Chad, my best friend through highschool explained how his crazy cousin/uncle/friend (can't quite remember) fired one at a seagull on lake erie, rendering it a floating ribcage of feathers and we knew we had to have one. We were 16. Now that doesn't mean I don't still own a spud gun, and that doesn't mean it's not the third one I've built, but I don't want to shoot animals with it any more. Just people. And not with potatoes. Anyway, the sheer satisfaction of having one of these things go off, and the surprise that it works, and the decibels that can come out of it is enough to knock you on your ass laughing when you're 16. We worked on it for so long, we raided so many (see the use of raid?) construction sites for it, and when it finally worked we were overjoyed. The fun never ended, but we never laughed as hard as the first time it shot without blowing one of our hands off. It was like our baby had said its first word.

What things make you laugh your ass off? Please? Do tell.